


Barking Up The Right Tree

by relic_amaranth



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Dogs, F/M, Fluff, Gender-neutral Reader, M/M, Matchmaking Doggo, Multi, Other, Reader-Insert, Romance, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2020-01-12 01:42:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18436433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/relic_amaranth/pseuds/relic_amaranth
Summary: You can meet your soulmates in a variety of ways. Apparently, your dog is instrumental to this one.





	Barking Up The Right Tree

**Author's Note:**

> Confession: I could read about a bazillion soulmate meet-cute stories. This particular one follows the ‘soulmates have each others’ first words upon meeting printed on their skin’ trope. It is 100% fluff up in here folks. I might do more of these. I hope I do; I quite like them. However, uh, warning: I started off setting this in NYC but then thought ‘maybe it’s somewhere else that Bucky and Steve discovered they can be mostly on the down-low and they’re just having a weekend away?’ What I’m trying to say is that I left the setting very, very vague so if that bothers you I’m sorry. Anyways. Please enjoy!

 

The sun is shining in a blue sky only barely dotted with few puffy white clouds. The park is mostly empty on this side, with the ambient noise of a baseball game only barely carried on the light wind. The weather is warm, but comfortably so.

And you are _freaking out_.

“BALTO! … _BALTO_!” you call but your hyper husky does not come running or let out a single ‘woof!’ and you’re trying not to panic but he’s _so good_ he should be here or be heard or _something_. Maple had the right idea when she saw you and Balto leave for a walk and rolled over into a sunbeam to nap. Cats. Why couldn’t Balto be a _cat_ he’d be so much safer.

You keep searching but as you walk and shout you can think of nothing but awful scenarios– Balto somehow getting to the street and running right into it. Balto, a beautiful and friendly dog, being _taken_ –

–or, Balto, big dumb loveable and friendly sweetheart, making a new friend who is just sitting there petting him while that big fluffy _asshole_ revels in the attention. You stop to stare (and catch your breath). Your formerly-missing dog is lying on his back in the grass, wiggling and thumping his tail while a man with dark hair rubs him and talks in a soft sweet voice too low to make out actual words. Your dog– who can _hear you fill the food dish from a block away_ – shows no sign of having heard your frantic calls.

You put your hands on your hips and inhale a big gust of air.

“ ** _BALTO!_** ”

Both man and beast jump to their feet and your adorable _monster_ bounds over to you. He alternates between bouncing from _his_ excellent morning and remembering to be ashamed with how you’re looking at him, and he ends his journey to you with a saunter. The man follows him but for the moment you focus on your troublemaker. Who has the gall to _whimper_ and stare at you with big eyes. “Don’t you look at me like that!” you scold and snap the leash back on, with a mental note to get a new one that doesn’t snap off _ASAP_. Still, you undermine your own position by rubbing Balto’s face. “You scared me!”

Balto continues to look sad, but his tail thumps against the ground rapidly. Jerk.

The man laughs and you look at him, ready to apologize, but he smiles brilliantly and then he says– he _says_ – “I’m sorry for keeping him; he’s a real sweetheart.”

Your hand goes to your shoulder where those words rest in tiny print and you take a moment to take that in. Sure, it’s been a shit morning, but honestly you couldn’t have dreamed of a better way to meet one of your soulmates than to be standing with him in the park on a warm, sunny day, with one of your fuzzy soulmates at your feet. You let out a breathless little laugh and say, “Don’t let him fool you– he can be a real bastard sometimes.”

The man’s eyes go wide and here it is– the moment of acceptance or rejection.

“I’m sorry,” he says after too many seconds of silence. “Just– I’ve been waiting a long time.” He extends a gloved hand. “My name is James Barnes. Call me Bucky.”

You introduce yourself and shake his hand– and then it clicks. “O- oh.”

Bucky lowers his head and snakes his hand back. “Sorry; I know it’s probably not what you wanted–”

“No no no; that’s not–!” You clear your throat and calm down. Balto nudges your side and you scratch between his ears. “I know some about you but I don’t know _you_. And I’d like to. If…that’s okay with you?”

Bucky lifts his head and his face clears of sad shadows. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say, smiling with relief.

He’s smiling too, but it drops a little and you can _see_ him swallow. “Do you have–”

“Bucky!”

You and Bucky turn, and Balto lets out a friendly “ar!” to the tall blond man making his way over.

Captain America looks at you with a friendly but cautious smile, and holding two drinks, one of which he hands to Bucky. Next to you, Balto whimpers at the end of his tightly held leash and stands so his tail starts hitting the back of your legs. You look down at him, unimpressed. “Don’t you think you’ve caused enough trouble today?”

Balto looks sad but sits his butt back down. He makes sure to whine about it though. Drama queen.

“Aw, I think he’s pretty great,” Bucky says with a bright, toothy grin. He then introduces you to Steve Rogers and…you’re nervous. You have another set of words, down on your side, and the odds _are_ almost overwhelmingly in your favor that you and Bucky share the same ‘other’ soulmate. However–

“It’s nice to meet you.”

…You have, naturally, heard that before. A lot. As you and Steve shake hands, you chew on the inside of your cheek and try to figure out what to say. Bucky’s smile is mischievous so you decide to stick your neck out. “If you’re really the reason I have those generic-ass words, then I kind of hate you right now.”

Steve _drops_ your hand.

Balto is the worst and also the best. So is Bucky, apparently, because he laughs really hard. Given that it’s _his_ introduction that prompted those words, it makes sense he’s the only one finding this so funny. You look at Balto. “No wonder you both get along so well. You’re both jerks.”

Balto barks and makes a discontented muzzy noise. You look up again and start at how suddenly _close_ Steve is; your nose practically grazes his shirt collar. “Sorry! Sorry,” he says and backs right up. “It’s– we’ve been waiting. For a long time.”

“So I hear. I thought I’d be the one saying that but…I guess I can’t really complain,” you say.

Bucky reaches out and puts his hand on your arm, so light you can barely feel his touch. “Doesn’t matter anymore. We found each other now.” Steve puts his hand over Bucky’s and cements the touch as something solid, something _real_. Something–

Balto fusses and the moment is so thoroughly broken even Bucky blinks in surprise. You sigh and roll your eyes. “By the way, this needy little mood-killer is named Balto. Sometimes the light of my life, sometimes the bane of my existence. He’s really playing both sides today.”

Balto is up on his feet before you finish speaking and as soon as Steve leans down he is immediately greeted by a face full of happy, slobbering dog. Steve laughs and only fends Balto off for a moment before he caves, and in under a minute your pup is getting the belly rub of a lifetime. Bucky sits down to join in, and Balto’s tongue lolls out as he ascends to doggy _heaven_.

You look down at Balto and try not to smile. He notices you and barks happily. “Oh no. I’m still mad at you.” You cross your arms. “I’m pretty annoyed with all three of you, actually.”

Three sets of wide, innocent, varying shades of blue eyes all turn up at you at once.

You’re doomed.


End file.
